Behind the Moon, Beyond the Rain
by AliasJaneDoe
Summary: - "Who do you want me to kill?"
1. Chapter One

TITLE: "Behind the Moon, Beyond the Rain"  
  
AUTHOR: ghostwritten  
  
E-MAIL: AliasJaneDoe (at) hotmail (dot) com  
  
RATING: PG-13  
  
SUMMARY: "Who do you want me to kill?"

CATEGORY: drama, angst  
  
SPOILERS: probably nothing, possibly everything  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm trying to get over writer's block by writing other things, trying styles or genres I don't normally explore and just keeping the pencil moving (or rather keeping the typing constant in this case). Anyway, I've been pestered into having a go at Harry Potter. However, I'm not really all that familiar with the HP fandom, so I apologize for any mistakes.  
  
FEEDBACK: yes please, even flames are welcome as long you give a reason for them  
  
WARNINGS: dark (others will likely be added later since I'm making it up as I go)

* * *

_Another five minutes, and then he was leaving. Draco was tempted to pace, but he merely waited quietly, standing still. He knew the importance of being aware of his surroundings. Something howled deep within the Forbidden Forest, but he didn't flinch. He'd learned there were much greater things to fear than what lurked in the darkness at the edge of the Hogwarts' grounds. He'd learned when to be afraid. Being jumpy or impatient would gain him nothing._

_Most of the creatures here wouldn't bother him if he didn't bother them. And he had his wand. If anything came his way, he was ready for it._

_A twig snapped somewhere to his left, although there was nothing there, and he crossed his arms over his chest in a show of annoyance. "You're late, Potter," he announced._

_Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak, and it shimmered as its edge caught in the slight wind. "I had to be sure you came alone."_

_Draco smirked, somewhat intrigued. "It's what your little note said." He flicked the paper at Potter, and it hit his chest before falling to the ground where it lit itself on fire and then promptly vanished. "Clever."_

_"There can be no evidence of this meeting," Harry replied, tone serious._

_"And why, pray tell, is the Gryffindor golden boy arranging secret meetings after curfew with a Slytherin?" He leaned against a large tree to display disinterest. It served him best for Potter to think he was here out of simple boredom. He didn't wish to appear overly inquisitive. "I'm mildly amused, but if this is some house prank, be certain you'll regret it."_

_Harry's expression held distaste as he regarded Draco, studying him carefully. "I thought we'd grown beyond house grudges and pursuing childish antics. But if you're still afraid of the dark, Draco, then our conversation is over."_

_"It will take more than shadows to make me flinch, Potter." He sneered at Harry. "Now get on with it. Why are you sending me love notes in the middle of the night?"_

_A scowl crossed Harry's face. "Don't be snide. It isn't befitting the dignity of a Malfoy."_

_"Fine then." He pushed himself away from the tree and moved to stand directly in front of Harry. "Talk."_

_The change in his posture satisfied Harry. Perhaps Draco really wasn't a whiny, spoiled brat anymore. Perhaps the last few years had changed him as acutely as they'd changed Harry himself._

_"Straight to the point then, shall we?" Harry began tugging up his sleeve. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."_

_Draco practically took a step a back in shock. Whatever he'd been expecting, this wasn't it. But he managed to hide his surprise at being blindsided. He kept his gaze steady on the other wizard._

_Harry pulled the material back into place. "Did you bring it?" _

_With a slight nod, Draco passed a small vial to him. _

_Without hesitation, Harry dumped the contents into his mouth and swallowed. Draco waited silently for an explanation. It was fairly reassuring that he didn't ask any immature questions to test it. There would be no games of truth, no questions of crushes, girls, and sex that were meant to embarrass. It felt somehow strange to Harry that they acted now as adults._

_"I'm requesting a favor," he said calmly._

_"Under Veritaserum?" Draco raised an eyebrow._

_"Yes. You need to know I'm not lying."_

_"What's the favor?"_

_The sliver of crescent moon disappeared behind a cloud as Harry replied. And it seemed fitting that his request be bathed in blackness. "I want you to kill somebody."_

* * *

TBC... 


	2. Chapter Two

Author's note: This story keeps jumping back to two previous points in time. But it should be easy to catch on after a while.

* * *

"You're pronunciation was better the last time," Harry snapped at Ginny. "Aren't you paying any attention at all?"

"She's doing her best, Harry," Hermione commented.

Harry sighed. His head ached and his temper was shot. His patience for repeated mistakes had worn thin an hour ago. "That was not her best. That was a pitiful attempt, and any first year could point out the fault with her wrist motion."

"My wrist is tired from doing this a hundred times," Ginny defended herself. "And I am trying."

Harry wanted to roll his eyes at her but merely sighed, taking a deep breath in order to calm himself. His friends acted like such children sometimes. But then, they were all only children after all, weren't they? It was hard to remember they weren't already older. "Try harder. Because I don't care if you're doing your best. Your best doesn't matter. What matters is getting it right."

"Lay off," Ron butted in. "She didn't do that badly. And we are all tired."

"Do you expect to only be attacked when you're prepared, Ron?" Harry asked in agitation. Did they think the Dark Lord would offer to hold off on slaughtering them until they had a chance to take a nap first? "Expelliarmus!"

Ron's wand flew from his hand.

"Accio wand." Harry called it to him in disappointment. "You're never ready, are you, Ron?" And that perhaps saddened him more so than it irritated him. Expelliarmus could easily have been countered. It took several syllables to say. Short spells, even those seemingly useless such as stupefy and avis, could have been shouted before Harry had finished his. If Ron had still lost his wand, at least he'd have caused a distraction that could buy him precious seconds in an actual duel.

In fact, the unforgivable Cruciatus Curse could be cast with a simple "crucio." That was one they all needed to learn. It didn't matter that it was a dark spell. They couldn't hesitate to cast it. It was short, and it was powerful, and it could save their lives. The best spell in the world wouldn't matter if they never got a chance to say it.

"We're all stressed out, let's call it a night," Hermione said before Ron could get upset. "I still need to study for Potions tomorrow anyway."

"We are not stopping," Harry stated as if that was that, as if they would continue just because he had said so. But they had to keep working. Time was drawing short. It would only be a matter of days now.

"Hermione's right."

"Hermione is not right! She only thinks she's always right." The words were out before Harry could think better of them.

She stubbornly refused to look hurt, though they all knew otherwise. "I'm leaving now. This is our final year, and I've no intention of not having perfect marks."

Harry grabbed her wrist as she tried to go. "All the tests and quizzes you take don't matter. They only make you stand out, they draw attention to you. Did you ever consider it might suit you best to only appear average?"

"Tests do matter, Harry," Hermione stated with certainty. Her entire world depended on her grades. "I have plans for my future, and passing my classes does matter."

She wouldn't have a future at all if Voldemort decided she was too powerful. She was outspoken as for what she believed in. She would soon be viewed as a potential threat. "This, this is what matters, Mione. Learn this. Not the answers to some bloody test."

"Well, I for one would like to graduate," she replied, still upset.

"You won't. None of you will." His tone was deadly serious.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron snapped.

"It means people are going to die, Ron!" Voldemort wasn't going to allow Harry to graduate and become who he was supposed to be. He would move to stop that destiny. Something inside Harry told him this. Something screamed it would be soon. Soon, he would face the Dark Lord. And all who stood with him would be required to fight. "You will die. Ginny will die."

With a glare at his friend, Ron wrapped his arm protectively around his little sister. "What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?"

Hermione cast him a look he couldn't quite translate. "I think we should go before anybody says something they might regret later." The statement was pointedly directed at Harry. He'd already crossed the line. She turned to leave, and Ron and Ginny followed.

This time, Harry didn't stop them.

He sank to the floor and put his head in his hands. A moment later, his left forearm started to burn.

* * *

_"This is a very dark magic, Mr. Potter," Snape reminded him._

_And dangerous. Harry stared at the blade in the fire. "I've made my decision." He knew the risks._

_"Very well. Remove your shirt." _

_There was something in the Potions Master's eyes that said it was a foolish, Gryffindor thing to do. And yet also, there was a trace of what was as close to... pride... as Harry had ever seen from the older man. At least that was ever directed at him._

_Harry swallowed as he removed his robes and then pulled his long-sleeved shirt over his head. His Gryffindor colors fell to the floor. And he swallowed once more, his throat feeling dry. Then he sat in the chair by the fire._

_The blade was withdrawn from the coals, its tip glowing red-orange. Harry's breathing deepened, controlled and steady, as he steeled himself._

_Uncorking a small vial, Snape poured the contents onto the blade, and it hissed a black smoke. The potion contained several drops of Snape's own blood. The blood of a Death Eater._

_Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the discipline of his mind. He felt a light touch of fingers on his left hand. A last offer for him to back out. He didn't speak._

_"Silencio."_

_The command was almost gently cast. And now Harry knew that he could not turn back. He no longer had the option to speak._

_He kept his eyes closed. But the anticipation of pain was perhaps more intense than its actual infliction. And on some level, he wanted to watch._

_The burning blade touched his skin, and he tensed yet didn't flinch away. Each movement increased the pain. Harry's breathing quickened. It hurt like nothing he'd expected. It was acid. It was fire._

_As the final line was drawn, he screamed as Snape had known he would, his cry silent. He bit his lip 'til it bled, and then he cried out again. The mark was made, but the pain only grew worse._

_Positive he was about to throw up, Harry tried to shove himself up from the chair and make a sprint for the bathroom. Instead, he fell to his knees and then collapsed completely. He rolled onto his back and fought to breathe._

_The burn of the mark spread into his chest and then stretched throughout his whole body. He suddenly thrashed and his body twisted in agony._

_Snape's hands pressed his shoulders back down against the floor as his writhing became more violent and uncontrolled. He was being held to prevent the spasms from causing injury._

_The mark sought to call out to its dark master._

_Harry refused to let it. He focused on the work he'd done to train his thoughts._

_Snape was talking to him, coaching him through this... but his voice was a hum in Harry's ears. The pounding of his heart roared louder._

_Not Slytherin. He repeated the thought in his mind. It was his request to the sorting hat so many years ago. His wish when he learned he could speak Parseltongue. His desperate prayer now. Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin. _

_He would not let the mark claim him._

_The grip Snape had on him tightened. Harry's internal struggle left no lingering thought of concern for command of his body. His silenced wailing ripped his throat raw._

_And then Harry finally succumbed to the fierceness of the seizure and passed out._

* * *

TBC...

Nyoka Li, fire-icecat, Sunshine-Girl03, and Ghost of Allknowing - thanks for reviewing


	3. Chapter Three

"Hermione, please wait," Harry begged her, walking quickly to keep up with her fast pace. He almost tripped as the staircase they were on shifted position.

"I don't want to be late for class," she replied coolly, still clearly upset with him. And now she was also irritated at needing to take a longer way around.

That was one thing she had in common with Ron, he thought to himself. They both held onto their anger. Ron had refused to talk to him that morning, leaving for breakfast early instead. Harry supposed he deserved the cold shoulder. He had told him that he and Ginny were both miserable at magic and then that they were going to die.

In Harry's defense though, they likely would. It was why he knew he would need to face Voldemort without the aid of his friends.

He moved to block Hermione's path. "I want to say I'm sorry."

She stopped walking. "Really?" She looked skeptical.

He smiled at her, though it was half-hearted. "Yes, really." He reached up and pushed some stray hair behind her ear so he could clearly look at her. "I'm sorry for everything."

She didn't know what he was sorriest for he hadn't done yet.

They waited in silence for another stairway to rearrange itself.

"Did you apologize to Ginny and Ron?" she asked when they resumed walking, at a slower speed this time.

"I will," he promised. His apology to Ron had been left in the form of his broom and an accompanying note that wished him luck in the final game. Harry had quit the Quidditch team the year before, viewing his role of Seeker as a waste of time. As for Ginny, he was planning to find her as soon as classes were done for the day.

* * *

_Draco eyed him with suspicion. "You found a way to beat Veritaserum."_

_"No." Harry looked back at Draco, his serious expression never wavering. This wasn't a game. He removed a small parchment from his pocket and handed it to him. Then he withdrew his wand. "Lumos." _

_Taking the paper, Draco quickly read it. His eyes narrowed into slits as he went, and not from lack of light. "This is a confession to putting me under Imperius."_

_"Yes. It will free you of any blame should you need it."_

_"Imperius is an Unforgivable, Harry." _

_Something dark slithered across the ground by their feet._

_"I know." Giving that to Draco was taking a huge risk, but Harry knew he wouldn't do anything stupid like turning it in to Dumbledore now. It was to be held as a safety net for if Draco agreed to his request. If he were to be held responsible, he could then accuse Harry._

_The confession was signed in blood._

_After rolling the parchment back up, Draco slipped it into his own pocket. "That won't start on fire later, will it?"_

_"No."_

_Draco nodded, believing he was indeed telling the truth. Yet he still watched Harry with deliberate regard. "Who do you want me to kill?"_

* * *

Harry pressed his lips quickly against Ginny's and kissed her. Not exactly the apology he'd had planned, but... at the moment he didn't care about plans.

He slowly withdrew his lips and waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he did. "Do you still ever think of this, Ginny? Of us like this?"

She touched her hand to her lips. "No," she answered in confusion. That had been when she was a child. Harry had never shared those feelings.

Harry kissed her again, noting that she didn't pull away. He parted his lips and used his tongue to encourage her to do the same. She allowed him to deepen the kiss, although it held no passion.

But it did feel nice. Harry's mind screamed at him that the Weasleys were like family, making Ginny like his little sister. And yet his body enjoyed how this felt. His placed his hand on her hip, tempted to trail his fingers up to her small breasts.

Ginny wasn't exactly a little girl anymore, but not quite a woman either. Harry wondered if she'd get the opportunity to finish growing up. He wondered if he could have sex with her without letting strong emotions get involved that would alert Voldemort through their link. Wondered what it would be like to not worry about the Dark Lord seeking to hurt all those he cared about. Wondered what falling in love would feel like, because he knew he didn't love Ginny in that way.

He wondered if he even regretted that he was likely going to die a virgin.

Did Ginny care if she did?

Compared to everything else they were going to miss if they died soon, it seemed like a rather small thing. He ran his fingers through Ginny's red hair. They were both so young. A tear escaped and slid down his cheek.

He regretfully ended the kiss. And he searched her eyes. "Do you still have a crush on me at all?" he asked. "Because if you do, Ginny, I want to know. We could be together tonight. I could..."

Harry wondered what he'd been about to say. That for one night he could pretend to love her? That this was his apology to her. That he was offering her himself, as if it truly was more about her than about what he wanted.

If she still had any of those feelings for him, he wanted her to say it. She'd never have the chance again. He wanted to tell her to not think about it, to live in the moment and without regrets.

Selfishly, he knew he wanted her to say yes. He didn't want to sleep alone. And if they were together, she might see the dark mark that bore such a heavy weight on him. And then one of his friends at least would know the terrible secret he'd chosen to carry. He wanted her to know everything he couldn't tell.

"I don't," she finally answered.

Harry supposed that was for the best. He removed his fingers from where they still played with her hair. It was better he not allow himself to be that close to her. Because he likely would have told her.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked a moment later, watching him with concern.

He wasn't.

"Fine. I'm fine," he replied quickly, a bit too quickly. "I'm sorry, Ginny. Can we just forget I said anything? I'm sorry. Sorry."

He turned to flee before she had a chance to try to talk to him. Harry didn't want to talk about it. He never should have kissed her in the first place. If Ron ever found out about this, he'd kill him. Harry almost laughed aloud as that thought crossed his mind. Ron killing him.

* * *

TBC...

Would you guys rather have longer parts less often, or should I stick with short ones?

Nyoka Li - yes, the italics are the past

Cyndi - get on IRC, I miss you!

shloonktapooxis - thanks for reviewing


	4. Chapter Four

Author's note: I'm posting this chapter for Cyndi, and then I'll be switching to my other story for a while, so expect a delay on future parts.

Also, writing this chapter didn't quite flow smoothly, so any criticism, suggestions, or advice would be much appreciated.

* * *

_"I think perhaps what people are saying about you is right, Potter." Draco eyed him up and down. "You are crazy."_

_Harry couldn't help but notice where Draco's gaze finally rested. On his forehead. "Fine line, I suppose." Between genius and insanity. Between being the Golden Boy of the entire magical world and being some pitiable mental case with delusions._

_Maybe he was actually crazy. Just not in the way people were saying._

_"You don't even know what side I'm on," Draco reminded him. For that matter, he wasn't exactly sure about Harry anymore either._

_"Does it really matter?" Harry asked._

_"I should think it would," Draco replied. "Or at least you'd want to know."_

_Knowing if Draco was with or against him. Harry pondered that. One way made Draco an accomplice, the other an assassin. But he wouldn't ask it. It was better that he not know._

_"It's a matter of risks, Malfoy," stated Harry, preferring to view it all as some grand equation. Although in reality, it was Russian Roulette. "If we share a mutual goal, you'll do it because you know if you refuse, I'll ask another. And you know you're the best person for the task."_

_The best to commit murder. Yet Draco did know Harry was right. He likely was the best option. For several reasons._

_"I'd be risking myself." Draco felt foolish the instant he said it._

_It was this one shot only, a single chance. If Draco could increase the odds of success, then... "It's worth dying for," Harry said, committed._

_There was silence for a moment._

_"And if you're dark, you'll do it because I've handed you a get out of Azkaban free card." _

_The only reason for Draco to refuse would be if he were neither white nor black, but a shade of gray. _

_There was another quiet moment that stretched between the two young wizards, both deep in contemplation. Then Draco eventually nodded._

_"My answer is yes."_

* * *

__

Harry lay awake, his eyes not on his open book.

The mark on his arm was burning again. He waited for the pain to ebb.

He knew how often they met, knew where they gathered, saw through the veil of night that would shield them...

It happened more and more frequently. The visions came almost nightly as well now. Like it was all mounting, becoming, preparing.

The time was drawing near.

He closed the book, then headed for the Owlry. He quickly located Hedwig. "I need you to take something to Hermione for me," he said softly to her.

He was unable to enter the girls' room due to the stairway becoming an impassible ramp should any male try to go up it. His owl, however, wouldn't encounter the same obstacle as the bird had no need of steps. Hermione could open the window for him to return to the Owlry.

He scribbled a quick note. "Common Room. Now." He folded the paper and wrote Hermione's name on it, then gave it to Hedwig.

It was less than ten minutes later that a sleepy Hermione met him, wearing her nightgown and slipping on a robe. "Harry, what's going on?" she asked worriedly.

"I wanted to show you something."

She squinted at the clock and then at Harry. "Now?" she whispered, afraid of being caught out of bed.

Harry wondered if he found her constant attention to following rules annoying or endearing. "Yes now." He handed her the book.

"What is it?" she asked, her tone still hushed, but now also holding fascination.

He smiled at the eager gleam of anticipation in her eyes. It was a look she only ever got from a new book, a specific mix of curiosity and excitement. Harry beamed. "It's a book, Hermione," he teased, allowing himself to enjoy this moment. He hardly ever did anything that pleased her lately.

She tried to open it, but it was as if the pages were glued together. She looked to Harry in question, then slipped her wand from her robe. She'd made sure to grab it when she'd gotten Harry's note. Their middle of the night adventures usually required a bit of magic. "Alohomora."

The book fell open. All the pages were blank. Hermione furrowed her brow, puzzled. "Is it supposed to be a journal or something?"

"Better." Harry grinned and then touched the edge of the book. The pages all began filling with text.

"Whoa..." Hermione gasped softly. The writing was some kind of index. She flipped through page after page of book titles, authors, and dates. "What is it?"

"Hogwarts, a History," Harry ordered the book. The index vanished and new writing took its place. It now displayed word for word the contents of the book Harry had requested.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Where did you get this? How does it work?"

"I'll show you." There was an old copy of 'The Daily Prophet' lying on a nearby table, and Harry took the book from her and touched it to the paper.

The index appeared once more, and it now held the new entry. He requested it and glanced at the list of articles. Hermione read over his shoulder, then picked up the original paper to compare.

"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache,'" Harry read aloud. "A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence."

Hermione was all too familiar with Rita Skeeter's words. "Teenage girls can be cruel," she replied simply, glancing down at the floor instead of at him. She took the book from his hand, and watched the text disappear once more before setting it down on the table.

"It still hurts you, doesn't it?" Harry said, resting his hand on her arm. "The things people say about you because of me?"

"No," she lied, shaking her head. "Somebody probably just left that here to be funny. It happens... from time to time. Stuff like that. It doesn't bother me anymore."

"I wish it wouldn't happen. It shouldn't." He knew it still did bother her. "If I could make it all go away, I would."

She sighed. It would be nice if vindication was so easy. Just requiring a wish. "You can't."

He could.

Harry couldn't take away the past, but he wouldn't be the cause of any future pain for her. At least not for much longer. "It's all going to be okay, you know?" He caught her eyes for a second. "I promise."

She tried to smile at him. "Tell me more about your book," she requested, changing the subject.

"Well," Harry continued, "it does have one downside, or perhaps an upside in some cases."

He snatched up the newspaper and threw it into the fireplace. "You can't read anything that the source for has been destroyed."

Instead of lecturing him for burning somebody else's property, she just laughed. And she smiled with him and it reached her eyes. "I like your book, Harry. Thank you for showing it to me."

He placed it in her hands. "It's yours."

"What?" She gaped at him. "Harry, I can't accept this."

"I want you to have it." The book had nothing more it could offer Harry now anyway. "I've already linked it to everything in the Restricted Section, plus a few of Snape's and Dumbledore's books, and also some stuff in Hogsmeade."

She looked about to protest that he couldn't just read those things without permission.

"You know you're secretly glad I did it," he teased her. "Now come on, give me your hand."

She did as instructed, and he set her hand on the cover, still held in his. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," Harry announced. Above their fingers, words suddenly glowed.

_Property of:  
__Harry Potter_

"Your turn," he told her, his tone playful. "I'm vouching for you to the book, so state your name and then swear."

She eyed him skeptically for a moment before almost nervously speaking. "Granger. Hermione..." It felt odd introducing herself to a book. "And I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Her name wrote itself beneath his, and Harry blurted out laughing at the way the book displayed it. "Granger comma Hermione! Awww, that's bloody perfect!"

She gave his shoulder a soft punch, and then couldn't help but giggle along with him.

Harry then silently, wistfully, watched her as she read through the index of the all the books she could now access. This time when he lowered his hand, the print stayed. He liked seeing her so happy. But the moment still held a bittersweet twinge for him.

If she had any idea why he'd given her that book...

Well, he would just never tell her. Harry sighed.

"We can add Ron to this, right?" she asked, knowing he likely wouldn't use it but would still feel left out if the text appeared for her and Harry but not him.

"Sure," Harry agreed. "We can add Ron."

She smiled and returned to reading. Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly. "Night, Hermione."

"Good night, Harry," she mumbled back, nose still in the book.

One last sad smile crossed his face before he turned and headed back to his room. For some reason, it felt as though his childhood had just ended. He'd grown up a long time ago, at least emotionally. But tonight, leaving Hermione, he actually felt it.

It felt like goodbye.

* * *

TBC...

HELP WANTED: If anybody knows what happened to the Mirror of Erised, who made it, and if there is only one, please contact me. Thanks.

Oh, and feedback is strongly wanted. Good or bad.


	5. Chapter Five

  
_When lucidity returned, the pain reminded Harry of what he'd just done. His fingers clawed at the mattress beneath him before twisting themselves tightly around the smooth sheets. _

_A sudden, blind panic surged through him, and he instantly clutched at the bandage on his left arm, needing to rip it off - the bandaging or the arm, he didn't care which. He both had to see it and couldn't bear to._

_A large hand grabbed his, preventing him from tearing off the cloth. "It's best you not look yet," Snape ordered him. "Lie still."_

_Harry collapsed back against the pillow, his breathing harsh. He shouldn't have done this. He never should have asked it. He could feel it under the bandage, a horrible itching, burning... eating away at his skin. He'd actually gone through with it, and now he would be marked forever._

_Oh god, oh god, oh god... Harry closed his eyes tightly._

_"Don't concentrate on the pain," Snape instructed. "Focus only on breathing."_

_But Harry couldn't breathe. His body and mind were both in turmoil, agony. "Can't," he choked out, gasping. The word had volume, the silencing charm either worn off or released, Snape no longer afraid his cries would draw unwanted attention._

_"You can," he continued, and Harry found himself actually listening to his professor. His tone was firm but didn't hold its usual smugness and superiority. He actually could be a decent teacher, Harry realized. "The worst is over, let it go. It's done. Breathe."_

_Harry forced himself to relax, exhausted. His scar wasn't throbbing, Voldemort wasn't whispering inside his thoughts, and the mark on his arm was merely a wound and not some sentient beast. For the moment, there was no darkness trying to lay claim to his soul. There was only him. It was over now, and he could breathe. All he had to care about was that he could breathe..._

_"That's better." Snape replaced the cool washcloth to his forehead. "Keep breathing, Harry."_

_Blinking several times, Harry finally took in his blurred surroundings. He reached up to touch his face, discovering it wet with tears. He hadn't known he'd been crying... Still was crying. His glasses rested on the nightstand, and he was lying in Snape's bed. The man must have carried him there after he'd blacked out. _

_Then Harry noticed that the fingers of his other hand were clinging tightly to Snape's, his knuckles white from the panicked grip. He instantly let go, embarrassed. Small marks from his nails were left on the man's hand. Harry groaned. It was bad enough that he'd fainted._

_"You're running a slight fever."_

_"I'm fine," Harry lied. The fire still consumed him, he could feel it. His body was damp with sweat. He disliked being weak in front of Snape._

_"Taking the mark in this way can be extremely_ _traumatic," Snape informed him. "You risk going into further shock. If you're in pain, don't conceal it."_

_Gritting his teeth, Harry wanted to snap that he could handle it. He glared at his professor. "It really hurts," he confessed, hating the forced admission. He warned himself not to start crying again. "It still hurts..."_

_Harry wanted to curl up into a little ball and never wake up. He actually wished himself back at Privet Drive. He didn't want to have ever learned about his current world. _

_-----_

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Taking off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Voldemort was giving him migraines. He'd gotten used to his own ability to eavesdrop, but sometimes the visions he got were still too much for him. He hated never knowing when they would come.

"Not now," he mumbled quietly, his head aching terribly. When it happened at night, he could handle it, but right now he was only twenty minutes into Double Potions with Slytherin. He was zoning out during classes way too much lately.

Ron poked him and slipped him a note. "You should be taking notes, this could be on the test," he read silently. He glanced up and looked over at Hermione, obviously the originator of the note. She gave him a pointed glare that clearly said to pay attention.

Harry crumpled the paper in his fist before closing his eyes. He wasn't listening to the lesson at all, and quite frankly he didn't care. The page in front of him was blank, his quill merely scratching out a doodle. Harry instantly stopped the motion of his hand. Opening his eyes, he stared at the ink.

His scribble was taking the shape of a very familiar dark mark. He immediately toppled over his ink onto the paper, trying to cover it. He smeared franticly at it with his hand.

Abruptly, Harry stood up, his chair almost falling over from the sudden movement. "I need to be excused," he blurted out. He could feel the vision on its way, and he somehow knew it was going to be one that hurt.

Snape looked upset at being interrupted, but he nodded. "You are excused, Mr. Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry cringed at the loss of points. Hermione was going to kick his ass later. But he'd be damned if he were going to have another fit while in class. He made a dash for the door, but the room spun into black before he could make it, and he grabbed the edge of one the desks to steady himself. Shit.

Pain laced through him, and he clung to the desk for fear of falling to the floor. This was not happening. He concentrated hard on controlling it.

"Mr. Potter, are you alright?" Snape asked.

No, he was not alright, he wanted to scream. "Shut up, Severus," he spat out in agitation before clenching his jaw. His fingers pressed hard against the wooden desk.

"SHUT UP, SEVERUS?!" Ron gaped in shock. "Bloody hell, Harry, have you completely lost it?"

Several chairs made screeches against the floor as they were pushed back. One was Hermione's, Harry would place money on it. Then there was stunned silence, none of the students daring to speak.

Dizziness hit him, and Harry felt his knees give out. Somebody wrapped an arm around him before he could fall.

"Class dismissed," Snape ordered, and everybody was quick to file out of the room. Except for Ron, Hermione, and whoever was bracing Harry, of course.

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked, her tone worried.

He couldn't reply.

"I've got him," said the overly familiar voice of the person Harry had slumped his weight onto.

He had NOT chosen Draco Malfoy's desk as the one to grab! Had he? Crap. Since this couldn't get any worse at this point, Harry allowed his legs to buckle completely.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Snape addressed them, "what part of 'class dismissed' did you not understand?"

Harry's two friends reluctantly left his side, and Harry surrendered himself to the images Voldemort was putting inside his head.

-----

_Harry felt uneasy as he waited for Snape to return, and he tried to shove away the uncomfortable anxiety. He was surprised to realize that he wasn't dreading the man's return, rather he'd welcome it._

_Was he so afraid of being alone that he actually wanted Snape's company? He rolled his head to the side and looked at the Potions Master's room. He'd always found Snape somewhat creepy and distant. Or at least Harry had always tried to keep his distance._

_It was good that he didn't know Snape all that well, though. There were times when Harry preferred being around strangers. Like now. Not that Snape was by any means a stranger to him, he wasn't, but they didn't actually know anything about each other. They only knew the roles they each played in the fight against Voldemort._

_Harry couldn't imagine what it would be like to go through this with a friend. He would have liked the support, and yet... He stared at his bandaged arm. He didn't want anybody he was close to with him. He couldn't handle..._

_He sighed, and it turned into a moan. There hadn't been a choice in the matter anyway. He'd needed it done by somebody who bore the mark himself. Snape was his only option._

_"Three days, then come back." That was Harry's only reply when he'd approached Snape about it. _

_He'd spent the first day thinking the man was a prick who didn't think Harry mature enough to have already thought things out. He was being sent away to sleep on it, as if his decision was some impulsive thing. He'd wanted a simple yes or no, not the man's opinion. He was more certain than ever that he would do it, just to prove a point._

_The second day, he started to wonder if his professor was right. He'd spent weeks researching every angle, figuring out if he could do it, but he'd not given himself time to debate if he actually would do it._

_On day three, he'd confirmed that he did want to take the mark. It wasn't just something he had to do, his duty as Harry Potter, member of the Order. It was something he was truly willing to do - a rational and well thought through decision._

_He trailed his fingertips over the bandage, not removing it but wondering when he would. If Snape had said four days rather than three, if he'd been required to live with his choice a single day more... would he have still done it? Or would that fourth day have given his fear time to change his mind?_

_He closed his eyes, still pondering it. What if he'd said four..._

_-----_

When the classroom came back into focus, Harry fought to hold back his moan. The remnants of images still felt like they were slamming against the inside of his skull.

So this was what made him special? His strange connection to Voldemort. Visions that sought to rip his mind apart. He rubbed his forehead, feeling his scar. He was the Boy Who Lived.

This sucked. Why couldn't Draco be the one who was special?

He pushed himself up straight in the chair. So he wasn't on the floor for once? Nice. He looked at Draco and Snape who were watching him and making no attempt to pretend not to be. "Well, that was pleasant," Harry muttered sarcastically.

"Can you stand?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded, then regretted it.

"On your feet then." Snape held out is hand, and Harry took it and yanked himself up.

He waited to regain his balance, then he brushed off his clothes. There were no sympathies from either Snape or Draco, and no reassurances required from Harry.

Since the class had been let out, Harry walked back to his own table, scooped up his things, and left. Draco did the same.

Harry instantly spotted Ron and Hermione waiting outside the room for him, and he turned quickly to Draco. "Walk with me," he instructed, seeking to avoid his friends.

They both ran over to him anyway. "Harry, are you--"

"I'm fine," he preempted them, trying to keep walking.

"Hold up a minute," Ron said.

"We need to talk to you," Hermione added.

Harry was unable to hide his agitation, but he stopped. "Honestly, I'm okay."

Turning him away from Draco, Hermione opened her planner and held it in front of him. "You can't just do things like this, Harry," she whispered somewhat harshly.

Harry glanced at the page. "Herbology - study chapter 12 notes" had been scratched out and replaced with "DA meeting - re: Cruciatus." He'd forgotten that he did that, but of course Hermione would have tried to fit in more study time now that they had a free period. She was so predictable.

She snapped the planner shut, as if afraid somebody might see it. "I know something is going on with you, but you can't write stuff like that." She lowered her tone further. "We could get expelled!"

"You worry too much, Hermione," he replied, brushing her scolding aside. "If we get in trouble, I'll just say the voices in my head told me to do it."

She stuffed the planner into her book bag. "That isn't funny."

Harry really wasn't in the mood. "Look, I'm talking with Draco right now, alright? We'll discuss your schedule later." He turned back toward him with an apologetic look.

A look which Hermione noticed. "You can't just dismiss me like that, Harry."

"Yes, I can, and I did. So we'll either have this conversation later or not at all." He was really getting irritated.

"Come on, Harry, we want to talk. You've been acting strange lately." Ron sounded worried. "Tell ferret-face to wait. Don't ignore your actual friends."

Harry sighed in exasperation at the name-calling. "Grow up, Ron."

"What are you possibly talking about with a Slytherin anyway?" Ron demanded. "You're a Gryffindor, in case you've forgotten."

"God, Ron, how could I possibly forget!" Harry snapped. "Nobody will ever let me."

"Well then, you could trying acting like you still belong to the same house as we do!"

Harry left Draco's side completely and moved to glare directly at Ron. "You know why I'm in Gryffindor House, Ron?" he practically hissed at his friend. "Because I told the sorting hat not to put me in Slytherin. It should have though. I'm likely the bloody Slytherin heir! What do you have to say to that?!"

Ron grabbed his arm and dragged him even farther away from Draco. He did not want anybody overhearing the things Harry was saying. It would be all around school within the hour. "I'd say James and Lily are probably rolling in their graves because their son is behaving like a real bastard."

"Ron!" Hermione snapped, appalled by the way her two closest friends were acting.

Ignoring her completely, Harry tightened his hand into a fist. "I didn't even say it in Parseltongue," he replied before taking a swing at Ron, and landing it perfectly across the side of his face.

"HARRY!" Hermione yelled sharply, trying to force her way between them. "Stop it! Both of you!"

"Fine," Harry spat back. He shook out his hand and rubbed his knuckles. "We're done here anyway."

He turned back to Draco who was watching with a dull amusement. The stupid halfwits Harry had for friends really didn't have a clue what was going on with him. Draco probably understood Harry better than either of them. But they would never be friends.

Hermione followed Harry when he started to walk away. "Don't you have anything to say about what you just did?"

Ron nodded, wiping some blood from his split lip. Like an apology. He really hoped Hermione would give him a piece of her mind, as she was so prone to doing.

"Do you know how many points Gryffindor would have lost if a teacher had seen that?!" she yelled at him, still trying to control her volume.

That earned her a nasty glare from Ron, that she was only thinking about the points and not complaining that Harry had just slugged him. Their faces were both slightly flushed now.

Without thinking, Harry yanked out his wand. He'd had enough. "Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione hadn't even attempted to counter it, and Harry looked at her with disappointment before walking away.

"Worthless mudblood..."

It wasn't Draco who said it this time, but Harry. He didn't turn back to see the look of heartbreak on Hermione's face. His friendship with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger was over.

"Do I need to know what you saw?" Draco asked seriously after he and Harry had walked in silence for several minutes.

"No." The word came out clipped. He didn't actually need to talk with Draco about anything. "I just wanted to avoid... that." He waved a hand back in the general direction that they'd left Ron and Hermione.

"Do you want me to walk with you back to your room?" The question sounded a bit awkward, considering whom it came from.

A half-smile found it's way onto Harry's face for the briefest moment. Draco Malfoy was offering to let Harry Potter lean on him. Who would have ever thought that could happen?

Neither boy came close to liking the other, but somewhere during that night spent in the Forbidden Forest, they'd stumbled upon a mutual respect.

Yet Harry rejected his support with a shake of his head. He needed to be alone. He toyed with the edge of his left sleeve. Draco partially opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again. He left Harry on his own.

Harry stayed where he was, not moving. If he went back to his room and lay down, he wouldn't want to get back up. He removed his fingers from his sleeve, then dropped his arms to his sides.

Draco knew and Ron didn't. Harry kicked at the floor. What a horribly screwed up life he was living.

For a moment, he wondered if the mark was poisoning him. But he knew the way he'd acted was his own doing. He'd had to push them away, he told himself firmly. It was for their own good. They shouldn't be around him.

He wished he wasn't Harry Potter.

-----

TBC...

Everybody, thanks for reviewing. And I'm still at a loss for where the Mirror of Erised is now, BTW. Were we just never told what ended up happening to it? Or is it still just sitting there at Hogwarts?


	6. Chapter Six

_"I won't cast the killing curse," Draco stated._

_The refusal wasn't out of fear of Prior Incantato being used to reveal the action. Draco could be caught, and it wouldn't matter, Harry knew. The bloodstain of his signature on the paper in Draco's pocket would clear him. No, it was the nature of Avada Kedavra that prevented its use here. It was the most useless of the three Unforgivables, at least in Harry's opinion. Most people didn't realize that._

_Draco knew, however. He knew it was long to say, knew that by the moment it hit, the element of surprise would be lost... knew it could be sloppily cast even by the best wizard. Harry felt Draco's gaze move to his scar once more._

_Avada Kedavra was known to fail._

_"I don't expect you to." Something at their feet made a leaf rustle. "Wingardium Leviosa."_

_A small, black snake now levitated between them. Harry studied the tiny creature. _

_"Deceptive, isn't it?" commented Draco. He reached out and trailed a finger along the snake, his touch prevented with the silver glow that formed a shield around the serpent. "It's not venomous, yet completely protected. Nothing can harm it."_

_"Everything can be harmed." Harry whispered something to the snake, then he withdrew a knife. "Finite Incantatem."_

_Draco almost cringed. He'd expected the snake to land on the blade, but instead it lay in two pieces on the ground. He looked up. "What did you say to it?"_

_Harry briefly tensed. "An apology." He looked up also and met Draco's eyes._

_He shouldn't have asked. He'd momentarily forgotten Harry was under Veritaserum. He couldn't lie to him, and he hadn't been able to lie to the snake. Draco held no right to have asked. He returned his attention to the blade as Harry handed him the knife. It was black - sharp, lethal, beautiful... magical. _

_"Where--" This time, he stopped himself from asking. He wouldn't ask where Harry had gotten the knife, at least not now. He studied it further. The weight of it was perfect, the craftsmanship flawless, the very feel of it dark. This weapon belonged in his hand, not with somebody like Potter._

_Harry... the Parselmouth who was bound to Voldemort, who bore the Dark Mark. Gryffindor's one great hope. Draco was wrong about the snake - it was Harry whose appearance was deceptive._

-----

"And to what do I owe the honor of being graced with your presence, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, glancing up from the pile of tests he was grading from earlier in the week. "And only five hours late for class as well."

"I had a good reason for cutting class," Harry replied, snatching the paper from the man's desk. It was his own, and almost half of the answers were marked incorrect. He handed it back. "Don't do me any favors."

Snape marked the final few items wrong also, then he passed it back to Harry. "Congratulations, you failed by two points."

"Fine." Overall, he would still get the lowest possible passing grade for the class. This test didn't matter. "Anyway, my excuse. I find you bitter and irritating, and your lessons are pointless drivel, so I ditched."

Snape scowled.

"I'm serving a detention today," Harry clarified his reason for being there. "At least now I've done something to deserve it."

"You already deserved it, you insufferable little snit." The scowl remained.

"I suppose that's true." Harry sighed deeply. The "shut up, Severus" incident was already destined to go down in Hogwarts infamy. However, this time the insult was fully intentional. He wanted to know what it would feel like. Turns out, it wasn't overly satisfying. Being snippy to cover when he was ill at ease seemed to work better for Draco. "Should I apologize?"

Snape looked back up from the next test in order to watch Harry once more. "It would only serve to aggravate me further. If you need a potion, you know where they are. Take it and leave."

Harry paced a few steps. "I didn't come for a potion." They didn't help anyway, were just a bad habit. He plopped down into one of the student chairs.

"Why are you here?" The question was straight to the point. Most students didn't assign themselves detentions.

"It can wait until you're done," Harry replied.

"Very well." Snape returned to his work.

"If I'd made a list," Harry blurted after several minutes of silence, "I guess that would have been on it. Mouth off to Professor Snape."

His hand paused momentarily before resuming the note he'd been writing on one of the tests. "Are you satisfied now, or will we be revisiting that item?"

"I'm done." Harry settled back in his chair, expecting a return to silence, contenting himself to wait.

"And?"

Harry glanced over to find the man watching him. He shrugged. "And I don't know. I didn't really feel anything. Maybe that's why I never made the list... maybe I'm afraid nothing I could put on it would feel gratifying if I did it. It all seems rather pointless."

Snape set down his quill. "You're finding a lot of things pointless these days."

Was he referring to Harry's newfound tendency of skipping classes and doing shoddy work when he did show up? Harry furrowed his brow. Was he having an actual discussion with Snape? "I don't even know why I'm still at school. What am I supposed to be learning?"

"I wasn't only referring to your studies." He gave Harry a pointed look.

"I watch them all, you know? Preparing for their futures, making plans." Harry somehow kept the emotion from finding its way into his voice. "And I do know why I'm here. I have nowhere else to go. When the school year is over, I've nowhere to go. I didn't make any plans."

This would be the first year he wasn't required to go back to the Dursleys. It was supposed to be the start of some great life he was going to make for himself. That was the one bright side to losing Sirius. Harry had nothing to look forward to, nowhere to go, nobody waiting for him, and no future to regret missing.

"I look at them," he continued, "and all I can think is it must be nice. Nice to actually feel it instead of just imagine what it would be like, how it would feel to be young with a whole life ahead of you. To be able to do anything you want."

"Harry..."

"Don't." He had to stop whatever Snape was about to say. He didn't want to know. "I know my responsibilities, I know who I am. I don't pity myself. I was just observing."

Harry was not going to cry over the fact that he was going to die while still just a teenager. And he was not going to discuss his feelings about it with Snape. That wasn't what they did. Theirs was a relationship of indifference toward each other. Harry sometimes wondered if the show of not caring was just easier, for both of them. Or were they really apathetic?

"Why are you here?" Snape asked again.

Harry suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. "We need to talk."

-----

_"Strike fast, plunge the blade deep, then draw it out. Don't leave it in the wound." Harry was amazed at his own detachment. This was like merely discussing a school project, and not..._

_No. Harry wouldn't allow himself to think beyond the technical._

_Draco nodded. "Do you need it to be instant?"_

_Harry noticed the way he handled the knife, the way Draco was also able to talk simply about it. No faltering. Just business. Just details of a plan. This was only about how it needed to be done; it wasn't about whether or not it would hurt._

_No emotions, Harry reminded himself. No emotion._

-----

Harry stopped walking and watched the two students who were sitting on the grass under a nearby tree. Ron and Hermione. They didn't notice him standing there, his stroll for some fresh air abruptly halted. He just froze.

Ron and Hermione.

They were talking comfortably, occasionally laughing, occasionally touching. Harry squinted, cocked his head slightly, studied them intently. He'd never observed them from an outside perspective before.

Ron and Hermione.

He wondered why he'd never seen them before. Them. Together. It had always been Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Now it was just...

Ron and Hermione.

It was confusing. He quickly turned away, feeling somewhat sick. He was suddenly lightheaded, disoriented. It wasn't fair. He wanted to collapse onto his knees and sob. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted things he shouldn't want. He felt things that were wrong to feel.

Across the yard, Ginny was chatting with some girls from Ravenclaw. Harry determinedly strutted over to them. "Come with me," he instructed her, cutting off one of her friends mid-sentence.

She started to say something, to object or agree, Harry didn't know which. He just latched onto her arm and started walking, dragging her along in toe.

She mumbled some complaint about needing to go over notes for Transfiguration the next day. But she fell silent quickly, accompanying him willingly, worried.

He marched up to Ron and Hermione. "I need the book."

Ron glanced up, startled. "What book?"

Hermione fished it out from her pack and handed it to him. Harry instantly pressed Ginny's hand to the cover. "What's going on?" she asked, somewhat troubled, somewhat curious.

Harry stared at Hermione. "Your hand," he ordered.

"You're adding Ginny?" She quickly got to her feet, requesting a sidebar with him.

Harry didn't release Ginny's hand. "You said you wanted to add them. Let's get it over with."

Hermione glanced at Ginny, not wanting to have this discussion in front of her. "I said I wanted to add Ron. There's some very... advanced... stuff in that book, Harry."

A laugh broke free from Harry's throat. It sounded bitter, not how his laugh was supposed to be at all. "You think Ginny's too young to read it?!"

"Yes, I do." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"How many times does Voldemort have to swipe the girl before we teach her to protect herself?" he asked, tightening his hand over hers. "It's not like you're sheltering her innocence or anything, Hermione. She's been touched by things far darker than anything in here."

He was touching her now, after all. Ginny's hand was clasped in one of a person with the Dark Mark.

She stood firm. "There are dark magics in there I don't think she needs to be learning about yet."

Ron was now on his feet also. "Do I get a say in this? She is my sister after all."

"I'm standing right here," Ginny remarked, not enjoying being talked about like she wasn't there. Worse, like she was a child when she wasn't much younger than the rest of them.

"So we just add her later?" Harry asked, his tone sarcastic. "And if anything happens to you or me, or Ron..." he added, "then Ginny gets a book of blank pages. What's she going to do, throw it at somebody when they try to kill her?"

Hermione glared at him but said nothing.

"Your hand," Harry repeated. This time she obeyed. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Hermione echoed.

Harry looked at Ginny. "Say your name, then swear."

"Ginny Weasley." She glanced at Hermione and Ron as if seeking permission before finishing.

"Swear." Harry's tone was firm.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," she said boldly.

Her name glowed on the cover, and Harry turned to Ron. "Now you."

Ron placed his hand on the book and said his own name, then he swore.

_Property of:_  
_Harry Potter  
__Granger, Hermione  
__Ginny Weasley  
__Ron Weasley_

Harry looked at the words in satisfaction. At least now it was done. He shoved the book at the others, needing one of them to take it so he could let it go. As soon as it left his hands, he spun to leave.

"Harry, wait."

He didn't respond to Hermione's call. He just walked. They didn't need his hand anymore.

"Harry, are you okay?" a quiet voice asked after he'd stopped his aimless trek. He'd wound up in the Room of Requirement.

Ginny. It was her who followed him, not either of his best friends. "No."

"What's wrong?" Her tone was soft.

He held his left arm cradled to his chest. "I can't tell you."

"Do you want me to go?"

He was silent until he heard her footsteps head for the door. "Stay." He hadn't meant to ask it.

She moved to his side, and Harry pressed himself to her, burying his face against her shoulder. "Stay," he repeated, his voice broken. "Stay..."

"I will," she replied, a bit uncertain. She didn't know what was wrong with him, or what he wanted from her.

He sank to the floor and she sat with him. His fingers twisted themselves in the material of her clothing. He couldn't let go. "Don't leave me alone, Ginny." He was falling apart.

"You're trembling." She lightly stroked his back as he fought to hold back the tears.

Harry merely clung to her. He wondered if it was wrong for him to be doing this. Wrong to find solace in her touch after he'd recently touched her so wrongly. He'd kissed her. Now he was staining her with tears he shouldn't allow himself.

"Harry, please... Tell me what's wrong."

He couldn't. Wouldn't tell her. "Just hold me for a little while." He couldn't be alone.

"Alright," she promised. Harry would be held while he cried. She wouldn't let him go.

He shouldn't have felt sick seeing Ron and Hermione together. It was what he wanted, them being okay without him. Why wasn't he happy? Why did he feel jealous?

He didn't know what he wanted. When they'd been close to him, it was too painful. Being away from them was even more unbearable. Had he pushed them away to protect them, or himself? His friends were all that mattered to him, all that scared him. They were the reason he was willing to die going up against Voldemort. Not for his duty, for them. For them, he would give his life. Because of them, he didn't want to die.

"I'm afraid," he confessed to Ginny.

She gently stroked his hair. "Of what?"

Not being strong enough to do what he needed to. Of letting them down because he was too scared to let them go, to be let go of. "Failing."

-----

TBC...

Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming - good or bad. And are the italics bothering anybody other than Professor James Devine? Personally, I can read them just fine, but then again, I'm rather odd.

Also, I now have a mailing list. Just a way for me to let anybody who cares know what I'm currently up to and the status of my stories. For some reason, this thing won't seem to let me post a URL, so just go to my bio if interested.


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